Category: Just Shelley

My brother Michael is 2 years older than me. As lovely as he is now, he was a Demon Child when he was young. Pure evil. Bright, intelligent, resourceful, and determined to cut a swath of destruction around him.

Among some of his earliest acts of mayhem were several related to his decision, at age 3, that it was long past time for him to drive.

Adventure 1: Mother takes brother and me into town to get a few things at the store. She knows better than to bring us into the store with her and leaves us in car (in this town, believe me, it was safe). My brother figures out how to release the emergency brake. Two parked cars and a tree later, we finally came to a stop.

Adventure 2: My father, a Washington State Highway Patrolman, is driving I and my brother home in his patrol car. Michael wanted to drive. Now! Luckily the ditch wasn’t too deep and Dad wasn’t driving too fast.

Adventure 3: Poor father again. Mother is away to the Big City for the day. Father gets a call — bad accident on the mountain. There’s no one to take brother and me so he has to take us to the accident scene. He leaves us in the car with strong descriptions of what will happen to brother if he touches anything in the car. However, Child Demon doesn’t speak English. And the patrol car has a tempting, shiny brake release lever.

This is a mountain. This is a rolling car going down a mountain. See car roll. Roll, car. Roll. See the river at the bottom of this mountain. Go car, go!

Splish splash we were taking a bath, long about about a Saturday night…
No, no. It’s okay. We hit a tree just before going into the river.

One year. Three cars. One demon child. And one cute little helpless baby (Me) along for the ride…

Watching movies tonight as a way to stay awake while I work. I have a deadline Monday and I can’t miss it. Then two others follow closely behind it. Looks like I need to spend less time weblogging, more time on the books. Not to mention I have a ton of corporate tax filings I need to make for year end.

Blub. Blub. Help me! Help me! I’m going down for the third time…ack…gurgle.

Quick break: I bought War of the Worlds on DVD. Yes, my secret vice is that I love old time sci-fi flicks, cheesy special effects and all. War of the World, When Worlds Collide, Them, The Thing, The Day the Earth Stood Still — what’s not to like/love? Even old Plan 9 from Outerspace has a camp quality because it’s so bad (not as bad as the War Bus, but bad).

War of the Worlds had incredible special effects for the time — and it made the transition to DVD nicely. Both movie color and sound were improved.

Remember the old sci-fi flicks? They usually had to add something about religion in order to keep the religious fanatics from boycotting them. When Worlds Collide had a nod to the religious at the end, and War of the Worlds absolutely dripped religion. Folks today can learn from this — the hicks wouldn’t burn Harry Potter books if Rowling just had Harry go to church on Sundays.

(We who are all in the wrong must bow and defer to those few who just know they are in the right.)

When are they going to make Them and The Thing on DVD? I know they’re B & W, but can you imagine the ant call on Dolby?

Experiences of not having a driver’s license – II:

When I was 19 my boyfriend decided that I needed to learn how to drive. Bryan was a fanatic about cars as well as being an absolute whiz with anything that has an engine: cars, vans, boats, hydroplanes, you name it. We spent weekends either working on engines, going to Corvair car rallies, or taking the Class A stock outboard to hydroplane races in the Puget Sound. Fun times…except that I didn’t know how to drive. How can I not drive?

(Eternal questions: What is the meaning of life? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? What does SPAM really stand for? How can you not drive?)

One quiet afternoon we reached a moment of truth — Bryan had to see me drive. There was no other way to stop him harping about me driving. We grabbed his mint condition 1963 Corvair van and went for a little drive around the neighborhood.

Him: When you step on the gas, do it gradually. You don’t have to slam your foot down on the pedal.

Him: You still have to step on the pedal — we’re not going to go anywhere if you just rest your foot on the pedal.

Him: Shelley! You need to stop and look first before driving across the road! You almost creamed that car!

Him: No. No. You have the rightaway. You need to move!

Him: Don’t turn like that! You’re going to hit someone if you turn that wide!

Him: You can’t turn that sharp! This is a van, van’s don’t turn on a dime.

Him: Christ! Look out for that…! No, no, you’re okay.

Him: What are you doing? You’re too close to that …

Me: Thwap!

Him: You just hit that truck with my mirror! I can’t believe you just hit that truck! My side mirror’s gone!

End of lesson.

Experiences of not having a driver’s license:

When I was 21, a friend left her Volkswagen Beetle at my place when a group of us went out partying. This wasn’t one of the new classy Beetles, this was an oldie — the kind where they’d paste fur on it and call it a mouse. The kind truckers used to play “spin the Beetle, see where it lands” with. The kind you could knock over if you breathed hard on it.

Anyway, back to the story. The next day, my friend came to my apartment to pick up her car. The problem was there was one of her, but two cars. Solution: Let’s get Shelley to drive the Beetle home! Unfortunately, I didn’t have a driver’s license. I didn’t really know how to drive. Still, you know people in their 20’s — all guts and glory. My friend just knew I could drive if I really wanted to.

After having me drive the car around for a few blocks she certified me as ready to fly on my own. She got in her parent’s car, I got into the Beetle, and we set out to drive from the south end of Seattle near SeaTac to the University district along I5 on a sunny, Saturday afternoon.

My first challenge was figuring out how to shift the car. I finally remembered that you had to push down the shift pedal with your left foot as you shifted. I did eventually manage to shift, but not in time to stop from driving a Metro bus into the next lane. Good thing he swerved– can you imagine what would be left of a Beetle after a Metro bus got through with it? I don’t think he was very happy about my driving, though.

Next challenge — getting onto the freeway. After driving along on the breakdown lane for a considerable distance, with my friend frantically signaling me that it’s okay, I can merge in traffic now, I finally negotiated my first entry on to a freeway. After a bit, I also increased my speed to the point where the other drivers weren’t passing me, staring into the car trying to see what the hell was driving it.

Okay, so we’re humming along, me following my friend, when I noticed how warm it was. The heater was on. Solution: turn it off.

Unfortunately it was at that point that I found out that drivers tend to drive where they’re looking. In the midst of trying to find the heating control, I did the loveliest ballet across I5 that I’m sure most drivers have ever seen. Is this the heater knob? Is this off? Is this how you turn it to cool air? My attention finally returned to the important aspect of “driving” by my friend’s frantic signaling with her horn that I had Better Start Paying Fucking Attention to What I’m Doing! Right Now!

Okay, ignore heater, roll down window, pay attention to driving.

At that point, the football game in the Kingdom finished, and half of Seattle’s driving population entered the freeway.

You know how deer and rabbits freeze on the freeway when your car lights hit them? Well, that day when I was 21, I learned what the deer and rabbit were experiencing. Sheer, raw, mind numbing terror. Luckily, my autonomous nervous system took over in my catatonic state; I was able to follow my friend to her house with no resulting deaths or injuries.

Excuse me, I must end this post — I’m heading to the car dealer to order my very first car. Doesn’t that make you feel comfortable driving in the San Francisco area, now?

Damn! What is that horrible noise!

Throws computer off lap, runs to check it out…

Oh. It’s only my new teapot. I had put the water on to boil for afternoon tea and then promptly forgot about it. Unfortunately, I have boiled more than one teakettle dry when working on a new book, which is why I bought the new teakettle — complete with loud and obnoxious whistle.

Still, I didn’t know it was going to sound like that minuscule dot of matter that was the Universe just before it went Bang.